


Sobering Reminders

by Regi



Series: Sobering Reminders [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Finale didn't happen, First Kiss, First Time, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Supportive Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regi/pseuds/Regi
Summary: Dean really hadn't had much time to process, well, everything. And in his defense, it was a lot. God was gone, Jack was in heaven, and Cas…  Dean’s head had been reeling non-stop since the Empty ripped him away. Everything Cas had ever done or said to him, all of it had a new meaning. Little moments that should’ve meant nothing now meant everything. Cas was gone, swallowed up by a void of darkness right before his eyes. And Dean would never see him again. So it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Not anymore.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Sobering Reminders [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098587
Comments: 14
Kudos: 177





	Sobering Reminders

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in this fandom, so go easy one me please. I just felt like some things needed to be addressed and that's how we got here. It was supposed to be short. 
> 
> Special shoutout to my betas: wordsbymeganmichael and butwhatifwedid

It had only been a few weeks since everything went down and the bottles were starting to pile up. Dean really hadn't had much time to process, well, everything. And in his defense, it was a lot. God was gone, Jack was in heaven, and Cas… 

Dean sighed heavily. He was still mulling over those last few words. 

_I cared about the whole world because of you…_

_You changed me, Dean…_

_I love you…_

In any other situation, Dean would’ve just shrugged it off. Cas wasn’t the greatest when it came to properly conveying his feelings. Besides, he told all of them that he loved them. The Winchesters were his family, of course he loved them. So it’s not like it was only Dean… So why did this feel different?

It’s not like it mattered anymore. Cas was gone, swallowed up by a void of darkness right before his eyes. And Dean would never see him again. So it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Not anymore. 

Enraged, Dean threw the empty bottle on the ground, shards of glass scattering all over the floor.

It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. 

Dean’s head had been reeling non-stop since the Empty ripped him away. Everything Cas had ever done or said to him, all of it had a new meaning. Little moments that should’ve meant nothing now meant something. Dean wasn’t sure what that _something_ was, but it was definitely something. 

He wondered when it started. Had Cas always loved him? Did it start after he had become human? The Leviathans? _Purgatory?_ Or was it more recent? Was it before Dean kicked him out of the bunker (he really hoped it wasn’t). Before the Mark? Or maybe it wasn’t until they all started raising a damn kid together. Jack thought of Cas as his dad and Crowley _did_ say Dean was very maternal—and what the hell was he even thinking about?! 

Dean’s fingers strummed restlessly against the table. 

There were so many questions. So many things he needed to know. So many answers he would never get. And it just…hurt. 

Dean propped his chin on his hand and let out a shaky breath. _Dammit_. He told himself he wouldn’t do this, but the tear was already rolling down his cheek. 

“Dean?” Sam called. 

“Not now,” he grumbled, wiping the dampness from his face. He made his way over to the fridge in hopes of avoiding Sam’s gaze. It didn’t work.

When he shut the door to the fridge, Sam was there, leaning against the wall. His arms were cross and he had that pitiful “I’m always here for you” look on his face—and he wanted to punch it right off. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“Nope,” Dean replied, popping open his beer.

“Dean.”

“What?” he snapped. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Sam paused. “Right.” He knew better than to press.

It had become their new evening routine. Sam would ask if Dean was okay, Dean would tell him to piss off, and Sam left him alone. For a few hours, at least.

Dean finished the bottle before he even made it back to his room. Every motion took more effort than it was worth. He didn’t even bother changing; he just dropped his jeans and flopped onto the bed. Sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon, so he just stared at the ceiling. The lump in his throat was back, but this time he didn’t try to fight it; he just let the tears roll. 

__________________________________________________________ 

Dean wasn’t sure what time it was when he finally woke up. His throat was dry, his eyes were swollen, and his head was absolutely killing him. He didn’t even drink that much, but if it wasn’t a hangover…no, he _refused_ to believe it was because he cried himself to sleep. There was no way that was happening. 

His denial was cut short by a sullen thump in the kitchen. Without hesitation, Dean pulled the pistol out from under his pillow and crept out of the room. As he made his way down the hall, there was another clatter. 

“Sammy?” he called.

But there was no answer. 

“Sam?” 

Dean rounded the corner and froze. 

_What the hell?_

It took a lot to surprise him these days. Vampire invasion? No problem. Ghouls in the kitchen? A little gross, but sure. He was ready for almost anything. But not… 

“Cas?” he whispered in disbelief. 

The man standing before him looked down at his hands, eyes wide with confusion. He took a deep, shaky breath, and his lips curled upward. 

“Hello, Dean,” he said weakly. 

Dean swallowed and adjusted his finger on the trigger. He wanted— _needed_ —to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 

“Dean?” Cas asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Dean shook his head. _This can’t be real_. “You’re dead,” he choked.

“Yes, I thought so too,” Cas said, pulling at his trenchcoat. He looked back at Dean and frowned. “Is that necessary?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Cas took a step forward. “Dean—” 

“Don’t.” 

Even with a gun to his head, Cas couldn’t help but smile. “Dean,” he said calmly.

Dean didn’t even realize that his hands were shaking. Cas was on the short list of people he just couldn’t kill. But this wasn’t Cas. It couldn’t be. 

“How did you get here,” Dean gruffed. 

“I’m not sure,” Cas said, the peaceful grin never leaving his face. “I was in the Empty. I accepted my fate, but then…”

“What, Cas?”

“I don’t know. It felt like…like I was pulled out of the Empty. Something pulled me out of there.”

Dean blinked and lowered his gun. “You don’t think Jack…?”

Cas shrugged. 

They stood in silence for a moment, staring at each other. 

“It’s really you?” Dean asked.

“I think so. Yes.”

He nodded and shoved the gun in the back of his boxers. “Damnit, Cas,” Dean sighed, yanking him into his arms. 

Strong hands held him close. Once Cas realized what was happening, he happily returned the embrace. For the first time in a long, long time, Dean felt undoubtedly at peace. Cas was back. And there was a lot to work through still, but in that moment, all that mattered was that he was there, in Dean’s arms. 

He was sure Cas could feel his lips trembling. At the very least, he could hear him fighting back tears. Dean wanted to look at his face, but he couldn’t—he couldn’t show Cas how pathetic he was. He didn’t even realize that Cas was in a similar state. 

They didn’t break apart until they heard the bunker door open. Dean quickly pulled away from Cas, acting like nothing happened. Sam took two steps into the bunker before stopping dead in his tracks, eyes wide in amazement. 

Dean cleared his throat. “And where the hell were you?”

“I was…” Sam stumbled, realizing what he was looking at. “Is that Cas?!”

“Hello, Sam.”

“Apparently he’s back,” Dean said with a smirk. 

Sam nodded slowly. “And you’re sure he’s not…”

“I’m me, Sam,” Cas grimaced.

Sam looked at his brother with raised eyebrows. 

“He’s Cas,” Dean assured. 

“Huh,” Sam said, smiling like an idiot. He quickly walked down the stairs and pulled Cas into a hug. “It’s so good to see you, man. But how—”

Cas gave a gentle smile. “I’m still not sure.” 

“But he’s back,” Dean interjected, placing his hand on Cas' shoulder. “And that’s all that matters.” 

“Right,” Sam nodded. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Where are your pants?”

Dean’s smile dropped when he looked down at his boxers. “They’re, uh,” he said, gesturing down the hall, “I’m just gonna go.”

Sam cringed. “Yeah, you do that.”

__________________________________________________________

Cas hadn’t been back for four hours and Dean was already overthinking everything. Little touches, subtle glances, he was very aware of all of them. And, damn, was Dean talking to him too much? He felt like he was. Was he staring? Jesus, he hadn’t felt this stupid in a long time. And Cas seemed as oblivious as ever, which was Dean’s only saving grace. 

Dean watched as he picked at the burger in front of him. Cas said he was a little hungry, but he insisted he was just in a weakened state. His angel powers were back (kinda), but he wouldn’t elaborate. 

Sam kept asking questions about the Empty, but Dean wasn’t really paying attention. He was too busy looking at Cas. But not _this_ Cas. He kept seeing the Cas desperately trying to convince Dean to love himself. The Cas who’s true happiness was loving Dean. That’s why the Empty took him, right? Because he experienced true happiness? 

Dean dragged his hand down his face. Cas was back and all it did was make him more paranoid. 

“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas asked. 

Dean took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Cas nodded. “I’m glad you aren’t uncomfortable with my presence. After our last conversation, I thought— ”

Dean choked on his beer. “It’s fine,” he coughed, glancing at his brother.

Sam was utterly confused, and for good reason. Dean had never told him about Cas' final words. How could he? What was he supposed to say? “Hey, Sam, our angel friend said he was in love with me and that’s why he got sucked into a void of darkness. Want to grab some pizza?” Besides, Dean knew that Sam would read too much into it. He would want to help Dean cope (and eventually call him out for not dealing with his feelings, because _everything_ was a soap opera with him). He didn’t even know what he was feeling, so how the hell was he supposed to tell Sam?

“Dean?” Cas asked. “Are you alright?”

“I said I was fine,” he snapped. 

Cas' eyes went wide, then looked back down at his burger with a dejected nod. 

Dean cleared his throat. “My throat’s dry. I’m not dying.” 

Dean could feel Sam’s glare piercing through his back as he left the table and skulked back to his room.

__________________________________________________________

The following days, Dean avoided Castiel like he was Pestilence himself. He kept searching for a case, but nothing was coming up. The only time there wasn’t some sort of monster running around killing things is when he _needed_ to go hunting. And instead, he was stuck at a table buried neck-deep in books he didn’t even care about. All just to avoid a resurrected angel. 

He sighed. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. But everything was just so…overwhelming. For a few moments, he thought having Cas back would lighten the emotional burden, but it just made everything worse. He was happy to have Cas back— _he really was_ —but now all of those unresolved emotions were coming to a head. He wanted to scream. A lot.

Dean was thinking about how it started. Again. He decided it was definitely before the Darkness. Hell, Cas offered to walk right up to Amara with him, knowing full well he would die too. He probably should’ve suspected something then and there (though, he was a little preoccupied at the time). Damn, how did he miss that?

“Dean?” Sam appeared behind him. 

He groaned. “Yeah?”

“I found a case. Vampire attack just outside of Minneapolis.” 

“Cool, I’ll grab my stuff,” Dean beamed, closing the book. 

Sam’s face dropped. “Uh, actually Dean…”

“Sam?” Dean said as the realization washed over his face. “No. No, no, no, come on, man!”

“I got a call from Eileen. She’s pretty sure it’s only one or two vamps and she agreed to wait for me to come and help her,” Sam shrugged.

“And I can’t?”

Sam sighed, placing his bag on the table. “Someone should stay with Cas.”

“And I’m sure you two will have a lot of fun,” Dean said, reaching for the bag.

Sam reached for the handle at the same time. They fought for the bag for a few seconds before Sam yanked it away from him. 

“You,” he barked, pointing firmly at Dean, “are going to stay here with Cas.”

“I’m not a damn babysitter.”

“Dean,” Sam scrubbed his hand down his face. “Look, man. I don’t know what is going on with you right now, and I know Cas coming back is a _lot_ —”

“Sam—”

“But, I think, maybe you should stay back on this one.”

“Sam—”

“Dean. You’ve been a wreck since we lost him. Now, I know you don’t like to talk about your feelings—”

“Like a little bitch,” he grumbled.

“Will you listen to me?”

Dean crossed his arms and frowned.

“I’ve tried to give you space, Dean. I really have. But whatever this is, you need to figure it out. And if you aren’t going to talk to me, well, maybe you can talk to Cas.”

“Right,” Dean said, quietly. “How long will you be gone?”

“A couple of days. Tops.”

Dean glared at him. 

“You’ll be fine, Dean,” Sam added, patting his shoulder.

He pettily smacked the hand off of his shoulder before stomping back to his room. 

__________________________________________________________ 

_It isn’t a sexuality thing_ , Dean told himself as he scrubbed the dishes in the sink. He never actively went looking for men but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider it a few times before. Teen hormones are a crazy thing. And he’d always been sexually adventurous, so however _unrealistic_ it seemed, being with another man was never completely out of the picture. But this wasn’t just some hookup in a bar—this was _Cas_. 

“Let me help,” Cas said, stepping beside him. 

Dean begrudgingly handed him a towel without taking his eyes off of the sink. They stood in silence, washing and drying, and it had to be the most awkward thing Dean had ever experienced (and he’d had a lot of awkward experiences—one in particular involving bees). 

“Dean?” he asked.

Dean looked up at him, then realized they had finished. He cleared his throat and popped the drain. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, Cas,” he huffed. “Everything’s fine. How’re you feeling? More angel-y?”

Cas furrowed his brow. “Yes, I suppose. Dean—”

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he interjected, walking to the fridge and grabbing a beer. 

“Are you?”

Dean felt a pit grow in his stomach. “Wha—”

“Because you seem troubled by my presence. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. Frankly, I never planned to say anything. But it was the only option at the time.”

Dean sighed. “I know,” he whispered. 

That answer seemed to satisfy Cas, as far as he could tell. “I understand if you don’t want to discuss this anymore. It could be very uncomfortable for you.”

“Good. Glad we got that out of the way,” he added, patting Cas' back.

Cas took a deep breath and mumbled something in agreement, before walking out of the room.

Dean heard his bedroom door close quietly and wondered if he should apologize. He was never one to talk about feelings, but at the same time, he didn’t want to hurt Cas. He hoped Cas would realize that this was for the best. Dean didn’t have to address all of his confused feelings and Cas never had to experience the turmoil that came with loving him. He deserved better than that. So why did Dean start walking towards Cas' room?

At first, he just stood there, staring at the door. _It had to have been after Purgatory_ , he thought. There was no way Cas would stay behind if he loved him, right? Unless he stayed behind _because_ he loved him—which made no sense, but nothing ever did when it came to Castiel the angel. And if that was the case, it had to be before Purgatory. 

Dean sighed. _What the hell am I doing?_ He raised his hand to knock, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. After taking another nervous breath, he conceded, and turned away from the door. 

__________________________________________________________

He should be used to not being able to sleep. Hell, on a good night he only got about four hours. And when he couldn’t, he would just stare at the ceiling and think about nothing until his alarm went off. So why was he so restless? 

_Damnit, this isn’t working_ , he thought, sitting upright. He threw the blanket off of his legs and reached for his jeans. This wasn’t going to get any easier, and he’d rather handle it before Sam got back. The last thing he needed was his baby brother trying to dissect his…whatever this was. 

The cement floor was cold against his bare feet, but he didn’t want to waste time, lest he lose what little backbone he apparently had. He was back in front of Cas' door in a matter of moments, but this time he didn’t even have to knock.

Castiel opened the door with a weak smile. “Dean.”

For the first time since he got back, Dean finally met his eyes. “Hey, Cas.” 

Cas' eyes were soft, and they were melting away at his feelings yet again. He completely forgot whatever he was going to say. 

Cas cocked his head and Dean finally realized they were just staring at each other. 

“Can I come in?” he finally grunted.

Without a word, Cas stepped aside, gesturing to the open space.

It had been weeks since Dean was in his room, and after Cas disappeared, he couldn’t even look at the door. 

It was as plain as he remembered. Cas never hung anything up on the walls. He had a small stack of books on the nightstand and an old cassette player on his dresser—the one Dean gave him a few years back. The bed was neatly made, as always. He knew angels didn’t need sleep, but he wondered if Cas ever tried. But now wasn’t the time for questions like that, was it?

“Look,” Dean said, standing by the edge of the bed. _Damn, this is awkward_. “I, uh…” He sighed. “I got nothing.”

Cas was silent, and the look on his face said he was just as lost as Dean was. Wordlessly, Cas moved beside him, leaving nearly a foot between them. He turned towards Dean with that same soft look on his face. 

Dean suddenly couldn’t remember how to breathe. He glanced at the ground and then at Cas' dangling hand. Something in his head said to reach for that hand—to comfort Cas (or maybe just himself). He had already hugged Cas once, so he knew he was real. But he wanted to touch him again, just for reassurance. 

He shook the thoughts out of head. “What’s with the look?” Dean asked, gesturing to his own face.

Castiel raised his eyebrows and smiled a little wider. “I’m happy, Dean. Being here, it’s something I missed more than you could possibly know.”

Dean licked his lips. “We missed you, too. I…I missed you, Cas.” He turned back towards the door. “So, yeah, that’s all I got.”

Cas sighed. “How do you feel?” he asked.

Dean paused. “Sorry?”

“How are you feeling?”

“What, are you some kind of shrink? The Empty’s offering free psych courses now?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Let me rephrase myself. _What_ are you feeling?”

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line. 

“I know you’re not okay.”

“Whatever happened to staying out of my head?”

“I don’t need to be in your head to know something is wrong. So whatever it is—”

“I don’t know, Cas” Dean muttered. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know.”

Castiel slowly placed his hand on his cheek. Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he involuntarily leaned into the warm touch. Cas’ thumb caressed the stubbly skin, resting just over Dean’s chapped lips. 

“Dean,” he whispered. “You should get some sleep.”

Dean wrapped his hand around Cas’ wrist and nodded. “Okay,” he murmured. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He could feel Cas’ gaze on his back until the door was closed. He wondered if Cas knew he was still standing outside the door, fighting every urge to go back inside. Dean really thought Cas was going to kiss him—at least for a moment. And he wasn’t sure if the pit in his stomach was from arousal or fear, but either way, it just confused him more. 

__________________________________________________________

That was the first time Dean slept soundly in months, maybe even years. No nightmares to wake him up, no mournful dreams, just pure, unadulterated sleep. Everything felt so peaceful. 

By 9 a.m., he managed to drag himself into the library. Cas was sitting at the first table, reading through a large book about honeybees. Dean knew better than to ask. 

“Isn’t it boring?” he asked, startling Cas. “Just sitting around, waiting for Sam to come back, like a couple of sad housewives. We should find a case.”

He closed the book. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“Come on, Cas. I know you should take it easier right now, but we could find something easy. Something closeby. Maybe it’ll get your juices flowing again.”

Cas was taken aback. “I assure you, my juices are flowing just fine.” 

Dean cringed at his own statement. 

“Besides, a case isn’t going to help you.”

“Excuse me?” Dean challenged with wide eyes. 

Cas blinked innocently. “Sam said you were feeling unwell and needed a break. And I agree.”

“Sam said that?” 

“He asked me to keep an eye on you. I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

Dean crossed his arms and frowned. “But you did.”

“I don’t like lying to you.” 

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean barked. “I gotta make a call.”

Dean sat down at the other table, impatiently tapping his fingers as he dialed Sam. _I’m gonna kill him_. It took three tries to get through to his brother.

“What?” Sam grunted.

“What the hell?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” he countered, short of breath. 

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean.”

“Can we do this later?”

“No, Sam. No we can not. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I. Am. Fine.”

“Okay, fine,” Sam huffed. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Can we—no, we can not, Sam.”

“I can’t—”

“Oh, what? You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”

“Dean, now really isn’t the best time.”

“Sam?” came Eileen’s voice. “Want to shower?”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Is that Eileen?”

“I told you I was hunting with her.”

He frowned. “Hunting what, Sam? Something tells me it’s not vampires.”

“Dean—”

“Don’t,” Dean commanded before hanging up the phone. “Can you believe this? He ditched us for some booty call.”

Cas opened his book again. “You’re right, that sounds like something you would do.”

Dean scoffed at him. “That’s not true. And Eileen can do much better than him.”

“Better being you?” Cas posed, slowly turning a page in his book. 

He scowled. “I didn’t say that.”

Cas shrugged. “Maybe Sam just wanted to ‘wind down,’ as you would put it. He’s been through a lot recently,” he said, meeting Dean’s gaze. “You both have.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Here we go,” he groaned. 

“You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I take perfectly good care of myself.”

“You drink beer for breakfast. Frankly, I’m surprised you still have a functioning liver.”

“You know what, blow me, Cas,” Dean said, standing up. 

Cas’ eyes went wide with surprise. 

Dean froze. “I mean—” He pointed at the other man. “I didn’t mean—you know what, just—actually, don’t. Ignore me. Please.”

“Don’t…ignore you?” he asked, perplexed. 

Dean took a deep breath. “Just…just forget I said anything. I need another beer,” he grumbled, fleeing to the kitchen.

He had managed to put his foot in his own mouth yet again. _“Blow me, Cas”—what the hell was I thinking?_ And Cas’ face—dear God, _Cas’ face_ . Any other time, Dean would have laughed at him for being so clueless. Damnit, he told Cas to _blow him_. Maybe he could drink until he forgot?

He pulled open the fridge door. There wasn’t nearly enough booze. 

“Cas?” he called, sliding into his coat. “I’m going on a beer run. You need anything?” 

Dean didn’t even wait for an answer before he booked it up the stairs and out of the door. 

__________________________________________________________

Dean didn’t remember most of the evening. He remembered going to the bar and sweet-talking the young bartender into a few free shots of tequila. And she promised to take him out back and show him a good time. 

Next thing he knew, he was peeled off of the bar and carried to the parking lot. Then he threw up in said parking lot. Definitely not his finest hour. 

The worst part was that Cas had to see him in this state. Why did he even love Dean? Cas was, well, Cas. He was an angel. A real, live angel. Dean saw how people looked at him—with that babyface and those pretty eyes—he could have anyone he wanted. So why would he want a not-quite-forty-year-old, broken mess like him? Why did he put up with all of the crap Dean put him through? All of the cruel things he has said over the years. Cas gave up an army for him and Dean…he let Cas die.

Dean suddenly realized he was laying on his side, in the middle of his bed. When did he get there? Cas sat behind him, his warm fingers gently stroking Dean’s hair. He should tell him to knock it off, but it felt…comforting. Feeling his hand, hearing his calming breaths, all of it put Dean at ease. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but he wished that feeling would never go away. 

“When did it start?” he muttered. 

Cas’ hand froze in his hair. 

“You know,” Dean continued. “Was it…before you were human? Or, uh…after…I don’t know.”

Cas exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure.”

Dean chuckled. “You have no idea? None at all?”

“It’s not like that,” he said with a tender smile. His fingers started to move again, gently stroking through the dark blonde locks. “By the time I realized…I was already…there was no going back.”

Dean rolled onto his back, looking at Cas. “Well, when did you realize it?”

He smiled fondly, resting his hand on Dean’s cheek. 

Just like before, Dean involuntarily leaned into his touch, nuzzling against his warm palm. 

“I think,” Cas related, “that is something I’ll keep to myself for now.” 

“You know,” Dean smirked. “I’m completely relaxed. You could have your wicked way with me and I’d probably let you.”

“Dean,” he hummed, “you’re drunk.”

“That’s kinda the point.”

Cas sighed, the smile never leaving his face. “Dean. These feelings…there’s nothing wicked about them. And I would never take advantage of you.”

Dean scoffed. “I’m saying it’s okay.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s the tequila talking.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Cas.”

“And what do _you_ want?” 

He blinked. “I don’t know. I want you to be happy.”

“Dean,” he exhaled. “I’m already very happy. Just being here—”

“Cas. I’m saying I can’t do this sober.” 

“I know. But I don’t want a drunk Dean.”

“Then you clearly don’t know me,” he laughed. 

“Yes, I do. And when—if—you’re ever ready, I’ll be right here.” 

Cas leaned down and gently pressed his lips to Dean’s forehead. Dean’s breath hitched at the sudden closeness. It was so… 

“You should get some sleep,” Cas added, pulling away. 

He caught Cas’ wrist before he could remove his hand from his cheek. “Stay,” he whispered. “At least until I’m asleep.”

“Of course.”

Relief covered Dean like a warm blanket. He wanted to say more, but he was just so tired. Even so, Cas stayed there, with his hand on his cheek, waiting for Dean to drift off. 

__________________________________________________________ 

He woke up with a skull-splitting hangover. The tequila was a bad idea—a really bad idea. Dean had every hope of having a full-fledged blackout, but he didn’t have that kind of luck. Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe—just maybe—he didn’t actually tell Cas he could do whatever he wanted to him. Damn, he was an idiot. Christ, what would he have done if Cas actually took him up on the offer? But he wouldn’t have. That’s probably why Dean said it—he knew Cas wouldn’t do anything. Not while he was in that state. 

He sat up slowly and looked down at his body. He didn’t remember taking his shoes and coat off, and he certainly didn’t remember tucking up under the blankets. On his nightstand sat a cup of black coffee. Dean reached over and picked it up; it was still warm. Cas must’ve left it there pretty recently. At least he hoped it was Cas and not another ghost in the bunker. Then again, he could handle a ghost. But he had no idea what to do when it came to Cas, and everything he did just made it more complicated. Why was he so bad at everything?

By the time Dean trudged out into the main room, he emptied the mug. Cas was sitting at a table yet again, intently reading a book about planting perennials. He was focused, but there was no way he didn’t sense Dean’s presence. Maybe he was giving him space?

“Hello, Dean.”

 _Maybe not_.

“Hey.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Hungover.”

Cas chuckled. “I’m sure.”

Dean pursed his lips. “Anyways, thanks for coming to get me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Cas said, giving that same gentle smile that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face. “About what you said—” 

He cleared his throat. “You know, I really don’t remember much after the tequila.”

The smile slowly dropped off of Cas’ face. “Nothing?”

“Nope,” Dean lied. “Haven’t had a night like that in a while. I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?”

“No,” he exhaled. “Nothing stupid.”

“Cool. I’m gonna go get more of this,” he said, raising his cup. He couldn’t bear to look Cas in the eye; he knew exactly what kind of look was on his face. 

He got into the kitchen and hung his head. _Shameful_ didn’t even begin to describe his actions. But it had to be done, right? The sooner Cas got over Dean, the better his life would be. 

Dean splashed some water on his face, before pulling out his phone and texting Sam.

_D: When are you coming home?_

_S: Seriously?_

_D: Yes, seriously. I want to hunt._

_S: Then go hunt_

_D: That’s a little difficult to do when I have an angel babysitting me. Thanks for that, by the way._

_S: You’re welcome._

_D: Bitch_

_S: Jerk_

_D: What the hell are you trying to pull?_

_D: Sam?_

_D: Sammy, you answer me right now_

_D: SAM_

“Figures,” he huffed, throwing his phone on the counter. He couldn’t just keep avoiding Cas until Sam got back. And even after he did, then what? They all go back to hunting monsters and act like Dean doesn’t know what he knows? 

He sighed. He wished his mom was still around. She might have answers for something like this. Part of him just wanted to swallow his pride, tell Sam, and ask what the hell he was supposed to do. But he didn’t want to seem weak. He and Sam, they fought monsters for a living, stopped multiple apocalypses, survived actual Hell—and _this_ is what made him stop in his tracks? Falling in… 

He couldn’t do this. Not really. Whenever he did, it didn’t work out—not for him and certainly not for the people who were stupid enough to love him. Lisa, Anna, hell, even Robin…all he did was screw up their lives. He couldn’t do that to Cas. He couldn’t make him happy.

_I wondered what it could be, what…what my true happiness could even look like._

Cas’ words rang through his head. 

_Because the one thing I want…it’s something I know I can’t have._

_Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just being._

_I’m already very happy._

Dean put his head in his hands. Cas thought Dean would make him happy, but there was no way to be sure. He would hurt him, just like he hurt everyone else around him. There was nothing to offer him. There was no future in loving Dean Winchester. 

__________________________________________________________

Dean walked down the hall, stopping at Cas’ room. The door was open, and the angel sat on the edge of the bed, twirling the cassette in his hands. 

“You okay?” Dean asked, leaning on the doorframe. 

Cas glanced up at him. “I’m fine. I think…I think it would best if I stayed somewhere else for a while.”

Dean felt his chest sink. “What?”

“My being here…I can’t help but think it’s hurting you.”

“Cas…”

“And that’s the last thing I want,” he said soberly, his eyes growing damp. “I never wanted you to hurt you with these emotions. If I had any other chance to experience my true happiness, I assure you that I wouldn’t have asked you to carry this burden. My happiness, if it comes at the price of yours, then I don’t want it. Knowing you’re here, that you’re alive, that’s enough for me. But I can’t stay here if it’s hurting you. I can’t.” 

Dean took a few hesitant steps into the room and sat on the bed, leaving a wide gap between him and Cas. 

He let out a shaky breath. “Don’t.”

“What?” Cas questioned in disbelief. 

Dean shook his head. “Don’t go,” he whispered. “Please.” 

Cas met his gaze, fighting to keep the tears from leaving his glassy eyes. 

“I can’t lose you again, Cas,” he croaked, looking down at his hands. “So we can figure this out. We always do. But this isn’t something I—we—damnit…”

Cas’ hand slowly reached over to Dean’s. His fingers hovered for a moment, as if asking permission. Dean lifted his calloused hand enough to brush against it. Cas’ fingers gently caressed the dry skin, tracing over each finger. He slowly turned Dean’s hand palm-up, giving it the same treatment. Cas aligned their hands and laced their fingers. 

Dean had never been touched so gently. Yes, they were just holding hands, but something about it felt so…intimate. It was unlike anything he ever felt before. He gave Cas’ hand a reassuring squeeze, wiping a stray tear from his own face. 

“So, what now?” Cas asked quietly. 

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugged. “Can we just…stay like this for a while?”

He smiled. “I’d like that.”

__________________________________________________________

Sam returned the following day, and everything seemed to go back to normal—at least their version of normal. Break time was over, and they started picking up cases again. Dean and Cas never really spoke about those nights, or their talks. In fact, Dean made sure they never spent too much time alone. Not that he didn’t want to, he just…didn’t have a good excuse, really. 

Sam could tell something was off. And Dean could tell that Sam could tell. But Sam didn’t ask any questions and Dean didn’t give him any answers. Everything was working out fine. For a few months, at least. It wasn’t until their latest case that everything went to hell.

What was supposed to be one wraith turned out to be five. And, while they were able to take care of them, it wasn’t without cost. 

One of the wraiths made a beeline for Cas—and Dean still wasn’t sure how he did it—but he managed to tackle him. Cas grabbed the silver knife and finished her off, but not before she hurt Dean. The wraith’s spike ripped through his side and he yelped. He rolled off of Cas, blood pouring out of his side. 

“Dean!” 

Cas lifted his shirt and gasped. The gash was too deep for stitches and Dean was getting lightheaded. 

“Cas,” he groaned.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, rushing over to them. “Hang on.”

Cas pressed his hand against the wound. 

“Can you heal him?” 

“I’m trying,” Cas grunted. 

The wound glowed slightly, causing Dean to twist in pain. 

“Cas?” Sam urged. 

“It’s not…damnit.” 

Cas’ eyes began glowing and the light surged out of his hand. 

Dean felt like he was being ripped in half, like a hot knife digging into him. His eyes rolled back and everything went black. 

__________________________________________________________

When he woke up, he was back in the bunker, laying on his bed. His coat hung over the sink, still covered in blood and his ripped shirt was crumpled on the floor. Damn. He liked that flannel. 

He could hear Sam and Cas standing in the hall, speaking in hushed voices.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. 

“No, I’m not. But if I had to make an educated guess…”

“Great,” Sam huffed.

Dean touched his side and noticed a gnarly scar in place of his wound. _That’s odd_. He tried to sit up and groaned. 

“Dean,” Sam sighed in relief. 

Dean looked at his brother, then at Cas. They were both okay. He did it, he saved Cas. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Cas barked.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

“You almost died.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“That’s not the point!”

Sam cleared his throat. “You should tell him. And I’m gonna just…” he said, slowly backing out of the room.

“Tell me what?” Dean inquired. “What’s going on?”

Cas exhaled. “How’s your wound?”

“Cas.”

“I did the best I could, but—”

“Cas!”

“Dean,” he said calmly. “It’s…it appears I am still weak from the Empty. I can’t heal wounds properly, my tastes are changing again, and I’m very tired. It’s like I’m…”

“Human.”

“Kind of. I still have my grace, I can feel it. But it’s like I’m…I’m only half as strong as I was, and I wasn’t at my full strength before the Shadow took me. Healing you took most of my strength.”

Dean swallowed. “Is it getting worse?”

“No, it’s been fairly consistent.”

“And you didn’t think to say anything?” 

“It didn’t seem important at the time. 

Dean frowned. “That’s—”

“Foolish, I know.”

“Do you?”

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. “How’s your wound?”

“It hurts like a son of a bitch, but I’ll manage. I’ve had worse.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the scar.

“Go for it,” Dean said, putting his hands behind his head. 

Cas sat beside him on the bed and pulled the blanket down. The scar was bubbled, surrounded by purple bruises. His hand gently touched the skin just below Dean’s ribs, careful not to touch the damaged area. 

Dean sucked in a shaky breath. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

“S’fine,” he grumbled. 

“Dean, I’m…so sorry. I wish I could do more,” Cas lamented. 

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You could’ve died. You almost died, protecting me. And that’s—”

“Poetic?” Dean smirked.

“I was going to say that would be worse than death, but yes, Dean, I guess it’s poetic.”

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“No,” Cas sighed, sliding his hand up his chest to his heart. “No, it’s not dramatic.”

He scoffed. “You must really love me, huh?”

Cas smiled weakly. Dean already knew the answer. It was obvious—it had always been obvious, he just _chose_ to ignore it. Well, maybe not always, but by the time Cas said the words “I love you,” Dean knew. And he was content knowing that Cas was always there for him. But it was selfish. He always just expected Cas to be there, no matter what he did or say, never realizing just how much it hurt him. Dean didn’t like to half-ass anything, so why was he half-assing this? 

“Cas,” he whispered, looking down at his hand.

“Hm?”

“Can you shut the door?” 

Cas furrowed his brow and rose skeptily. 

Dean winced at the absence of warmth on his bare skin. Was he really about to do this?

The door shut with a soft click. Dean used the bed frame for support as he struggled to stand. His legs gave out, but Cas was under his arm before he could hit the ground. 

“Dean, you need to stay in bed,” Cas scolded, sitting him back down on the mattress. 

“I know, I just…”

“You should lay back down.”

Reluctantly, Dean did what he was told. “Fine. You, too.” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Dean…”

“Come on,” he said, slapping the empty spot next to him. 

He sighed as he made his way to the other side of the bed. After giving Dean one more unamused look, he laid on his back with his hands folded over his abdomen. Cas turned to face him, and Dean suddenly realized just how close they were. 

“Happy?”

Dean swallowed. “Yeah.”

He laid there, waiting—hoping—Cas would make the first move, but no such luck. Dean hesitantly raised his hand, nuzzling it against his wrist. Cas’ hand twitched slightly, as if a small surge of electricity was shot through him from the simple touch. Dean took it as a good sign. He hooked his finger under his palm, urging Cas to separate his hands, and once he did, Dean laced their fingers together. 

Cas gazed at their hands fondly.

“Cas,” Dean said softly. “Are you dying?”

“No,” he chuckled. “No, this is different.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I…I knew this would happen.”

He blinked. “Knew what would happen?”

Cas exhaled slowly and squeezed Dean’s hand. “I lied when I said I had no memory of leaving the Empty. It’s actually quite the opposite. We are supposed to sleep eternally in there, and I thought I would. Turns out, my constant travelling in and out of it complicated things. When I couldn’t sleep, the Shadow became angry. After all, I was the original reason it woke up. It contemplated torturing me—and did, a little—but it didn't enjoy the sound of the screams.” 

Dean tightened his grip on Cas’ hand. 

“So it went to Jack, and offered him a one-time deal. It would spit me out of the Empty on the condition that I never return, even in death. And Jack accepted, on one condition: it never leaves the Empty again. Balance is very important to him, and he couldn’t have it invading other domains simply because it was angry. In order to keep his promise, Jack had to make a choice.”

“He made you human…” Dean realized. 

“Yes. Not entirely, and not all at once. He said it would take time, but once my grace fades away, that’s it. I will be just like you and Sam,” he smiled weakly. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Cas shrugged. “I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. I’ve been alive for millions of years, and to suddenly face mortality…I wasn’t sure how to handle it. So, I wanted to be of use to you and Sam for as long as I possibly could.”

“Of use…? Cas, you’re not a weapon,” Dean insisted. “You’re family. You’re you. And that’s not going to change just because you can’t, what? Heal us on a whim? I hate to break it to you, but we did just fine not dying when you weren’t around.”

Cas frowned. 

“This,” Dean said, looking at his wound, “This was a fluke.”

“And if there’s another fluke?”

“Then we pack in the car and get me to a hospital.”

Cas hummed in consensus. 

“You’ve proven time and time again that you’re more than just an angel. You’re Cas. And I’ll take that over some superpowered angel any day.” 

He tried to hide his smile, but Dean saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards. 

“And I’d take human you over dead you any day of the week.”

Without releasing his hand, Cas rolled to face him. Dean saw something in his gaze—a look he had never seen before. He couldn’t describe it exactly, but it was somewhere between longing and adoration (and maybe a little bit of lust, but he wasn’t sure about that one). Dean cupped his stubbled cheek with his free hand, resting his thumb on his chin. Cas traced over his bicep, caressed his bare shoulder, and finally rested his hand on the back of Dean’s neck. And for the first time in years—hell, maybe even a decade—Dean knew exactly what he wanted. 

He tilted his chin out and pressed their lips together tenderly. Cas nipped his lower lip before pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth. The kiss was hot and passionate, something Dean would’ve never expected from Cas. His hand slid down Dean’s chest, caressing every muscle, every old scar, until he reached his navel. Dean loosened Cas’ tie and stroked his neck, desperate to touch as much skin as he could. 

They finally broke apart, gasping for air. Dean smiled anxiously, like it was the first time he’d been kissed like that. Cas let out a nervous laugh, before pressing one more chaste kiss against his swollen lips. 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Dean chuckled.

Cas grinned and laid his head back on the pillow. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“How long?” he teased.

His smile grew wider. “Long enough.”

Dean brought Cas’ hand to his mouth and kissed his palm. _Did I really just…_ He cleared his throat—a poor attempt at hiding his embarrassment. 

“I gotta ask,” he said, avoiding Cas’ gaze. “Did you ever…you know—”

“I’ve had sex before. Multiple times.”

“Not what I was gonna ask, but okay,” Dean said, mildly offended. “How many times?”

“Dean.”

“Not important. I was just curious if you, you know, had…feelings like this before.”

Cas tilted his head. “You’re…envious?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Which is interesting, considering your numerous sexual encounters.”

“You know what, just forget I asked,” Dean frowned, turning towards the clock. “Want to just sleep here tonight?”

Cas smiled at him. “I don’t sleep.”

“But you will soon. You’re becoming human, so you get to look forward to all of the little nuances. Besides, I…you should just hang here tonight.”

“I would like that very much.”

__________________________________________________________

Sam was cooking breakfast when Dean trudged out of his room. Dean grabbed a plate of pancakes, not even bothering to find a fork. 

“How’re you—”

“If you ask me how I’m feeling, I’m throwing this at you,” Dean said, waving a pancake at him.

Sam glared at him. “How’re you enjoying the pancakes?” he groused. 

“They’re pancakes,” he responded with a full mouth. “Where’s Cas?”

“He said something about ‘needing a proper pillow’ and left.”

Dean nodded, pouring syrup onto his plate. 

“So I’ve been thinking,” Sam said, sitting across from him. “This is a big bunker, there’s a lot of spare rooms, and I thought maybe Eileen could come and stay here.” 

“And? What, you need my permission?”

“No, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

He furrowed his brow. “I like Eileen, Sam. She’s a good girl—a good hunter. She makes you happy.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “I just wanted to make sure. You know, there have been a lot of changes going on and—”

“I’m not a damn basket case, Sam.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it.”

Sam scratched the back of his head. “Dean.”

“Sam.”

“Look, you’ve been acting weird since Cas got back.”

“Dude,” Dean scoffed. “He came back from the dead. I think I’m allowed to be a little weirded out.”

“He’s come back before,” Sam suggested. 

“That’s not the point. This time…this was different.”

Sam leaned on the counter. “Are you ever going to tell me why?”

“No, probably not.” Dean placed his empty plate in the sink and walked towards the door. 

“Dean,” Sam called, making him pause. “I’m not an idiot. And I’ve noticed—”

“Sam.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Don’t.”

“—I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

His brother looked at him, eyes wide. 

“That’s all I wanted to say,” Sam added, tapping the counter.

Dean took a deep breath before walking out of the room, hoping to hell Sam was talking about something else. Everything was fine as long as it happened behind closed doors. Sam was never really privy to anything that happened in Dean’s personal life, and he wanted to keep it that way. Because once Sam knew—once he said it—it became real, and he wasn’t ready for that. And he probably never would be. 

__________________________________________________________

Dean spent the rest of the day in his room, desperately searching for a case. A few things were possible hits, but they were all longshots. A woman drowned her own mother in the bathtub in Maryland, two pigs were mutilated on a farm in Iowa, but otherwise there was nothing that screamed “monster.” Where was a good werewolf attack when he needed one?

He had been staring at his laptop for hours and nothing to show for it. He thought about calling Jody or Donna to see if either of them had anything suspicious, but they were both hunters. They could handle themselves and, even if they couldn’t, they knew to call if they needed help. So now what was he supposed to do? Sit around and knit?

Dean sighed. _Maybe Sam would want to check out some mutilated pigs_. 

He slid off of the bed and rubbed his eyes, before making his way to the library. Dull voices carried through the hall, and Dean could hear Sam and Cas talking. 

“… and I’m worried about him, Cas,” Sam said in a hushed tone. “And it’s been like this for a few months. I didn’t expect everything to go back to normal, not after everything we’ve lost. But Dean, he just…I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“He just needs time.”

“No, you didn’t see him. After everything was over, he was like an empty shell. Even when we got Jody and Charlie and everyone else back, he just wasn’t there. And when I finally got to see Eileen it was almost like he was…mad at me for it. I thought things would change after you got back, but Dean…I think the whole battle with God finally broke him. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Sam…”

“I thought you could maybe talk to him.”

“And you think he’ll listen to me?”

“He does listen to you. Even when he pretends he doesn’t. Look, Cas, I’m not gonna pry into whatever is going on between you two—your _bond_ —but…Dean was a mess after you died. I’ve never seen him like that. Not after Bobby or Mom…it destroyed him, Cas. And I know you care about him—”

“I love him,” Cas assured him. 

Sam gave him a weak smile. “I know. That’s why I’m telling you this. I think you can help him in a way I never could.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do—”

“You’re already doing. I just want Dean to be happy for once in his life, and you seem to be the best shot at that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Damnit Cas, I don’t know what’s with you two, but I’m not blind. I’ve been around you both for over a decade and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Dean told you.”

“No, he didn’t. And I don’t expect him to. I just thought you should know. You guys don’t have to go sneaking into each other’s rooms at night or anything. We can all be adults about this.”

Dean rolled his eyes and walked around the corner. “Hey,” he said, smacking his hands together. “I think I found us a case.”

Both men turned to him, surprised.

“Yeah?” Sam said, clearing his throat. 

“Mutilated pigs in Iowa. Let’s go,” he said, grabbing his coat and keys. “We’re leaving in five.” 

__________________________________________________________

“Well, that was a waste,” Sam grumbled, tossing his bag on the bunker table. “Thanks, Dean.”

“How was I supposed to know it was some weird fraternity thing? Did you do stuff like that when you were at college, Sammy boy?” Dean chastised.

“You know what—”

“Enough,” Cas interjected. 

Sam took a deep breath. “You know what? Fine. I’m gonna shower.”

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother as he stomped out of sight. 

“Can you believe him?” he mumbled, heading towards the kitchen. “I need a beer. Do you want a beer?”

“No,” Cas said flatly. 

Dean brought him a bottle anyways, placing it in front of Cas before flopping into a chair. 

“Dean.”

“What?”

“What was that?”

“I got you a beer?”

“You took us on a wild hen chase.”

Dean opened his mouth to correct him, but stopped when he saw Cas’ disapproving look. “What’s wrong?”

Cas sat in the chair next to him, reluctantly grabbing the second beer. “How many times are you going to go searching for something that can kill you?”

He frowned. “Kinda comes with the territory.”

“You’re searching for cases without thinking them all the way through.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re being reckless.”

“You’re mad at me because of a few dead pigs?”

Cas sighed. “You’re jumping into cases without thinking them through and you’re going to get hurt. Again,” he added, pointing to Dean’s injured side. 

“I told you, that was a—”

“Fluke. I know. But it could’ve been avoided if you didn’t go rushing in every time you _thought_ there was a monster.” 

“You do realize we’re hunters, right?” 

Cas tapped the table. “Sam’s worried about you.”

“Yeah, well, Sam’s overreacting! And so are you!” Dean snapped. “I’m fine, the job is fine, _everything_ is fine!”

Cas was taken aback at the sudden outburst. Dean had tried so hard to keep it together, to stop being so angry—so _lost_ —and hunting…that was the one thing that kept him from completely losing it. It was the one constant thing in his life, because even after he lost everything he cared about, there would still be monsters to kill. There would still be people to help. 

“I’m not broken, Cas,” he rasped. “I can’t be.”

Cas reached over to him, but he smacked his hand away. 

“Don’t,” Dean said, standing up. He walked towards the doorway, stopping only to grab a bottle of scotch, before going back to his room. There was no way he was going to sit around while Cas looked at him like a pitiful child. 

__________________________________________________________

Cas gave Dean space for the following weeks. In fact, he didn’t even try to make conversation unless it had to do with a case. At first, Dean was grateful. He really didn’t have the energy for whatever emotions were swimming around in his head, and he certainly didn’t want to hear about how much Cas loved him. It just made him feel worse. 

Anytime the two of them were alone in a room, it was just awkward. There’s no way Sam didn’t notice. And now that Eileen was moving in, she would probably notice too—and, damn, this was turning into the worst-case scenario. Everyone knew what was wrong with him, and it was pissing him off. Sam actually had the nerve to suggest a therapist (to which Dean promptly threw a beer can at his head); and, on top of every other shitty thing going on in Dean’s life, he was starting to have dreams. Dreams that reminded him just how pent-up he was.

They’d start out fairly normal. He and Cas would be working on a case, and they’d get back to whatever motel they were staying in, and Sam would be following a lead or something. Then it would shift. Sometimes it would be romantic, with Dean slowly undressing the inexperienced Cas and fucking him until he screamed. Other times, Cas would shove him against the wall and fuck him roughly. Sometimes they’d be fucking quickly in the back of the Impala, hoping to hell Sam didn’t catch them. His personal favorites were the ones that involved him fucking Cas’ mouth. Those were…what the hell was he thinking?!

This was _Cas_ , not some cheap porn. And he just couldn’t see himself doing any of those things. _Wait_ , he thought. _Does Cas think about doing those things with_ me _?_ Nope, he had to get that idea out of his head immediately. 

He probably just needed to get laid. Dean hadn’t gotten any action in at least six months, and every time he went out looking, he just felt guilty. Knowing that Cas was back at the bunker (and completely in love with him) really killed the mood. But it’s not like he owed Cas anything, right? He wasn’t _obligated_ to stay chaste just because someone liked him. Damnit, what was happening to him? Dean had never worried about things like this before. He just really, _really_ didn’t want to hurt Cas more than he already had. Why did everything have to be so complicated? 

“Dean?” Eileen said, snapping him out of his trance. 

He turned to face her. “Hey. You getting settled in?”

“Yeah. Thanks again for letting me stay here.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. Do you need any help with the boxes?” he asked, attempting to sign the word “help.”

“No, Sam is being more than helpful,” she satirized. 

“I won’t blame you if you kick his ass. He deserves it all the time.”

She giggled. “I’m sure.”

The bunker door opened, and Sam walked in the door with two boxes in his arms. “A little help, Dean?” he grunted.

Dean rolled his eyes, meeting Sam on the stairs and taking one of the boxes. “It’s not even heavy,” he grumbled.

“Not by itself, it isn’t.”

Dean looked at Eileen and rolled his eyes again, making her chuckle. They carried the boxes to her new room and placed them on the floor. 

“I think that’s everything,” Sam declared, clapping his hands together. 

There were only five boxes scattered around the floor, most of which contained books of lore, and a single duffle bag full of clothes.

“She doesn’t have much, does she?” Dean asked.

“Do we?”

He shrugged. “So she has her own room,” Dean suggested, pursing his lips. “I just thought, since you two were together—”

“Do you really want to go there?” he challenged. 

Dean shut his mouth. No, he really _didn’t_. 

“I’m gonna take her out tonight.”

“Seriously?” 

“What?”

“I figured she’d want to get settled in and everything.”

“Well, you figured wrong,” Sam smirked. “I’m taking her to this really nice place outside of town. She’s been stressed with the move and I thought it would be nice to help her get her mind off of things.”

“Sap,” Dean laughed. “Bring me leftovers?”

“No.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Should I wait up?” he mocked. 

“Probably not,” Sam grinned. 

Dean patted his back with pride. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“You just had to make it weird.”

“Whenever possible,” Dean chuckled, leaving the room. 

__________________________________________________________

Dean dragged Cas to a bar after Sam and Eileen left—he needed to relax a little and didn’t feel like leaving the angel sitting alone in the bunker. The bar wasn’t too full; there were only a few occupied tables and a group of frat boys at one of the pool tables. 

They weren’t even seated before one of the waitresses started making eyes at Cas. She made a point to toss her blonde ringlets over her shoulder before winking at him. 

Dean felt something stir in his chest, but wrote it off as heartburn. 

“Scotch,” he said to the bartender, scowling at the smiling waitress. “Make it a double.” 

“And for you?” 

“What he’s having,” Cas grunted. 

Dean downed his drink in one gulp and immediately signaled for another. Cas, on the other hand, never got the chance to touch his glass before the waitress returned. 

She started talking, but Dean couldn’t quite register what she was saying. He was too focused on her actions. How she leaned on the bar, pushing her chest out towards the oblivious angel, twirling a curl in her finger, never dropping the million dollar smile. She brushed her arm against Cas,’ and Dean saw red. She whispered something in his ear and he smiled, which made her giggle. 

Dean cleared his throat, but Cas didn’t notice.

“Hey, handsome,” said another woman, sitting beside Dean. “You look lonely.”

Dean took a deep breath before turning towards her, with a smile on his face. She had long, black hair, dazzling blue eyes, and a smile that could make any man melt. Any other night, Dean would’ve wooed her and taken her up on whatever she was offering. But not tonight. 

“I’m good, thanks,” he replied, drinking the rest of his scotch. “Maybe some other time.” 

Dean sighed, rising from his stool. He threw some cash on the counter and made his way towards the door, fully ignoring Cas’ confused gaze. 

He climbed into the Impala and rested his head against the steering wheel. What was his problem? He had no right to be… like this. Cas was more than welcome to flirt with whoever the hell he wanted to. Dean did it all the time, so why should there be a double standard? Damnit, what was happening to him? 

Dean sighed. He needed to end it—whatever _it_ was. This is why his relationships never work out. Dean wasn’t designed for commitment and when he tried, it just ended up hurting everyone involved. He hurt Ben and Lisa, he hurt Cassie, Anna, Jo…it always ended the same. And this—the unfaltering love that he craved—was something he could never have. 

The Impala door clicked open and Cas slid in next to him. 

“What’re you doing here?” Dean asked.

Cas furrowed his brow. “Getting in the car?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean smiled. “But you seemed pretty occupied there. Keep it up, and you might get lucky.”

He tilted his head quizzically. Realization crept onto his face, his eyes going wide with hurt. “Why are you…?”

Dean cleared his throat. “I’m just saying, you have a real chance in there. Who knows when the next one will be.”

Cas bit his lip before swallowing whatever he was feeling, sweeping his emotions behind a mask of stoicism. 

Dean knew it was a low blow, but it was necessary. Cas wasn’t going to give up—and maybe a part of Dean didn’t want him to—but there was no future in this. None. Zero. Nada. So what was he supposed to do?

He sighed. “Look, Cas, I—”

“Dean,” he said without making eye contact. “I know why you’re doing this. You think you’re subtle—you think maybe, if you say the right thing, I’ll give up. You’re punishing yourself out of guilt, frustration, mourning…”

Dean looked at him. 

“But you’re wrong. I never told you how I felt because I knew you’d do this. You see yourself as a burden to everyone around you, and you’re not. Some days, I think you’re the glue holding everything together. You give so much to other people, yet you refuse to take anything for yourself. You won’t let anyone love you because you think you don’t deserve to be loved. And I can’t make you see it any differently. I can only tell you what I know. Mary loves you. Jack loves you. Sam loves you. I love you. No matter how many times you deny it—how many times you tell yourself you don’t deserve that love—it will always be there. And when you think that love is gone, I will remind you that it is still there. No matter what.” 

Dean’s grip on the wheel grew tighter. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it remained. Cas turned to meet his gaze and Dean’s breath hitched. He couldn’t put the feeling into words—not really—but it was like a warmth radiated off of Cas, something that was touching him at his very core.

Cas’ hand stroked his cheek, wiping away the tear streaking down Dean’s face. Dean swallowed, tempted to lean into the soft caress. He tried to fight the tears, but it was in vain. Cas pulled his face closer, pressing their foreheads together, before leaning closer to place soft, chaste kisses against his lips and Dean just let all of his doubt melt away.

Dean wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Nothing else mattered in that moment. It was just him and Cas and the overwhelming surge of feelings he so desperately tried to ignore. He didn’t even question it anymore: he loved Cas. He was _in love with_ Cas. And he couldn’t say it—not yet. But he had the feeling he didn’t need to. 

__________________________________________________________

Dean really couldn’t remember how he got here, on his bed, straddling Cas’ naked thighs. They had taken their time slowly removing each other’s clothes, hands exploring each other’s bodies. Cas caressed every mark and scar, and covered his neck in kiss marks. Dean’s fingers traced circles on his back, wishing he would have seen the wings at least once. 

Cas trailed kisses over his shoulders and chest. Dean should’ve said something about not leaving marks, but it was too late and he didn’t care anymore. Instead, he threw his head back and moaned. He never expected this— _Cas_ —to feel so amazing. 

He cupped Cas’ chin, forcing those blue eyes to meet his own. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Dean whispered.

Cas frowned. “I’ve already told you, I’ve had sex be—”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant something like this,” he groaned, putting Cas’ hand on his bare asscheek. 

“Have you?”

“Not with a man.”

Cas cocked his head.

“Don’t ask,” Dean grumbled, reaching over to his nightstand. “Look,” he said, pulling out lube and a condom, “it’s a little different doing it like this, so—”

“I know.”

“You know?”

Cas blushed. “I did some…research.”

“Oh,” Dean nodded. “Right, so…” 

He handed the bottle to Cas and pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss. For the first time in a long time, Dean wanted something he could actually have. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to take it. 

A slick finger slid down his crack, making Dean’s throbbing cock twitch eagerly. Cas circled his hole, brushing over the tight ring.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” Dean moaned between kisses. 

Cas pulled his lips away and frowned. “I _want_ to be.” 

Dean gasped as the tip of Cas’ finger slid into him. The intrusive burn quickly shifted to pleasure and he sighed. Dean buried his head in the angel’s shoulder, placing sloppy kisses along his stubbled jawline. His breathing grew ragged as another finger slid inside of him.

He rocked his hips, fucking himself against Cas’ hand without removing his mouth from his angel’s neck. Dean so desperately wanted this to be quick and rough, but Cas refused to pick up the pace. He spread his fingers, slowly stretching Dean wider. 

Dean groaned. He ripped open the condom and rolled it onto Cas’ rigid member. 

“I want it now,” Dean muttered, kissing Cas again. 

“Are you su—”

“Now, Cas.”

The angel rolled his eyes and removed his fingers. Dean whined at the sudden emptiness. He braced his one hand on Cas’ shoulder, using the other to line Cas’ cock up with his quivering hole. Dean slid the tip inside and winced. It was certainly bigger than two fingers and he probably should’ve let Cas stretch him more, but _damn_ if he didn’t want this. Cas’ rested his hands on Dean’s hips, thumbs gently caressing his skin. 

Dean exhaled. He took Cas a little deeper and paused again, allowing himself to get used to the stretch before moving again. After what felt like an eternity, Dean’s ass finally rested on Cas’ hips. He cupped the angel’s face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. 

“Can you say it again?” Dean murmured.

Cas kissed him slowly. “I love you,” he said.

“Again,” Dean groaned, rolling his hips. 

“I love you.”

Dean found a rhythm, rocking faster. Cas matched his movements with gentle thrusts and wrapped his hand around Dean’s leaking prick. 

“Cas,” he moaned.

“I love you, Dean. I love you more than anything,” Cas said, jerking him faster. 

Dean felt so full—full of Cas, full of love—it was everything he never knew he needed. He covered Cas’ mouth with his own, kissing him more passionately than he ever thought possible. 

Cas’ hips jerked and he shuddered as he came. Dean never even considered what Cas would look like in this situation, but damn if it wasn’t beautiful—eyes closed tight, mouth open slightly, with a soft moan leaving his lips. It was enough to take Dean over the edge.

Dean was no stranger to a good orgasm, but this was different. It was like they were becoming one entity—one soul, and that was something he had never felt before. 

He let out a soft chuckle. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Cas huffed. 

Dean rolled over next to him, placing a hand on his cheek, and unable to shake the grin from his face. 

“I should get you a towel,” Cas said.

“Wait,” Dean said. “Can we just stay like this for a little longer?”

Cas gave him a look of confusion, before smiling. “I suppose we could.”

__________________________________________________________

When Dean woke up, Cas was draped over his chest, fast asleep. He never really got the chance to see him sleep (which sounded weird now that he thought about it). Cas looked so peaceful. His stoic expression was relaxed and his dark hair tousled. _And_ he was snoring softly, something Dean found to be absolutely adorable. 

He rested his hand on Cas’ naked back and sighed. When was the last time he cuddled with someone? Hell, when was the last time he woke up next to someone? It was all so dreamlike. Dean almost expected to wake up alone in the Impala—that this was just another one of his nighttime fantasies (one’s he was too old to be having, he might add). But his throbbing backside made him think otherwise. 

They never did get that towel—something Dean was already regretting. But he realized it was worth it, when Cas groaned and nuzzled against Dean’s chest. Cas’ hand flexed like he was searching for something, even though he was still asleep. Dean laced their fingers together and Cas seemed to relax again. And _damn_ if that wasn’t adorable. 

Dean started tracing little hearts on Cas’ back. When did he become such a romantic? He’d never really admit it, but this was always the dream: waking up in the arms of the person who loved him most. It was something he never thought he’d have—never thought he’d deserve. He knew that there would be some days where he still felt that way—more than he’d ever admit to. But in this moment of serenity, Dean didn’t care. 

He kissed the top of his angel’s head and smiled. Cas loved him and he loved Cas. And he knew Cas knew that. But Dean supposed it was finally time. He was going to tell him those exact words when he woke up: _I love you_. 

  
  


  
  



End file.
